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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830704">Eight Years</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandmanSam/pseuds/SandmanSam'>SandmanSam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:29:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandmanSam/pseuds/SandmanSam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The anniversary of the loss of a loved one hurts no matter how near or far away, especially when you have to keep a front in front of others. Sometimes you run out of the strength, but that's alright.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Eight Years</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day is wearing on Kurt like a set of shackles, creeping into his lungs and freezing him from the inside out. He put on a brave face in front of his dad, in front of Carole too, but now that he's at school, the shackles pull a little harder. He isn't safe to mourn here like he wants to. So he's stuck in a sullen, silent limbo.<br/>
He's never told anyone at school about the day his mom died. He's never told them how, or when, or why. Normally the day falls on an extended weekend, and he's free to lock himself in his room for the day. Not this year, too many snow days meant cutting back on vacation days in order to preserve summer vacation. So instead of begging for a sick day, he puts on his clothes, grabs his things, and goes through the motions of high school.<br/>
One upside is that he doesn't get slushied. He must already give off the aura off a kicked, and beaten puppy. Why go through the effort to make it worse? That's one backwards plus. He doesn't realize it until Tina comes into glee practice wearing different clothes than the ones she wore to lunch. He doesn't bother asking.<br/>
He hasn't really said much of all today. Not even to Mercedes, who tries not to look offended when her best friend barely raises his eyes to look at her when she talks. It's not even like he's being stubborn about opening up, he just zones out when she tries.<br/>
“You look like someone burned your scarf collection, Hummel.” Puck spoke up. “Did your favorite magazine get canceled or something?”<br/>
“Funny.” Kurt forced out an eye roll.<br/>
“What? Am I not worth your time or effort?” Puck ribbed him.<br/>
Kurt knows Puck doesn't mean it. He knows this is his way of rousing him. Getting him to act normal. But the shackles pull a little more, and Kurt can't bother to act normal.<br/>
“I guess not.” Kurt shot back coldly.<br/>
“Jeez, Hummel. Who died?” Puck asked.<br/>
“My mother.” Kurt snapped, picking up his bag and walking out.<br/>
He doesn't need to turn around and see their faces, doesn't want to explain himself. Or worse. No. He just needs to get out and find a quiet place to cry.</p>
<p>	He ends up at a record store just outside of Westerville. It was his mother's favorite place to bring him when he was little. She would show him the different styles of music. She introduced him to musicals here. So he goes to the small record player in the corner of the store and finds a copy of her favorite song. It's a piano piece, called River Flows In You. He knows every note of it. Can play it too, but not today.<br/>
Today he closes his eyes and listens, picturing the first time he ever learned it well enough to play for her. The excitement and love on her face when she watched him play, smiling encouragingly on the parts where his hands slipped. The way she clapped and hugged him and kissed his forehead.<br/>
“My baby. Always making me so proud.”<br/>
He doesn't mean to let the tears out, but they come. They fall like pieces of his soul. Clear, and burdened, and unstoppable. He muffles his sobs in his hands, shaking with all the words he wants to say to her, but can't. Slowly the tears stagger off, but the shaking stays.<br/>
“Rough day?” a soft voice asked.<br/>
He wipes his face and looks up, a boy standing on the other side of the record player, looking sympathetic and understanding. His brown eyes watch Kurt, no assumptions, no pity. Just the willingness to listen.<br/>
“They say it's easier after the first year.” Kurt sniffed. “But, it's not.”<br/>
“How many years has it been?” the boy walks closer, sitting beside him.<br/>
“Eight.” Kurt admitted.<br/>
Eight is a long time. It's almost a decade. Things shouldn't hurt this bad after eight years.<br/>
“There is no exact amount of time when things stop hurting. It's different for everyone, every relationship, every loss. It's not silly, or wrong for you to still hurt. It means they meant something to you. And not just because of how you knew them, but how they touched you while they were here.” the boy said.<br/>
Kurt lets out a small sob, of relief more than sadness.<br/>
“I wouldn't be a quarter of the person I am without her.” Kurt admitted.<br/>
“Then it's perfectly rational to still miss her.” He said.<br/>
“I don't let it hold me back. I have a great life. My dad. My stepmom, and stepbrother. I keep going, but today...today I miss her as much as I did eight years ago.” Kurt murmured.<br/>
“We all need that one time to grieve.” He said. “It's okay.”<br/>
“It might seem a little silly, driving all the way to Westerville. But this place is special. There aren't any bullies, or expectations, or need to find acceptance. There's just my mom...and the music.” Kurt sighed.<br/>
“Those sound like reasons enough to me.” He shrugged, smiling.<br/>
“I'm sorry, you probably didn't come here to see a stranger cry over a piano record.” Kurt laughed, wiping his face one last time.<br/>
“I didn't, but that doesn't mean I regret it. Was it her favorite?” He asked.<br/>
“Yeah.” Kurt nodded. “Thank you.”<br/>
“Happy to help.” He smiled.<br/>
“My name is Kurt.” Kurt offers his hand.<br/>
“Blaine.” He shakes his hand.</p>
<p>	When he arrives back home that evening the shackles don't pull so hard. They actually loosen when he accepts a long hug from his dad, and a sympathetic smile from Carole. They know what day it is. He doesn't have to explain it here.<br/>
“Dude, I'm sorry.” Finn said as they set up for dinner.<br/>
“I know.” Kurt said.<br/>
“Are you... are you going to be okay?” Finn asked.<br/>
Kurt thinks it over for a moment. Fiddling with a plate between his hands.<br/>
“Yeah.” He finally said. “Yeah, I think I'll be okay.”<br/>
Finn gives him a smile, and an awkward half hug. Yeah, he'll be okay.</p>
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